A Thoughtful and Gentle Farewell to an Unhappy Soul
by Camberleigh Fauconbridge
Summary: We all know the June Rebellion of 1832 against the July Monarchy did not end well, by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps, if a revolution occurred in a twenty-first century Paris, things might turn out the same way— or perhaps very differently. Modern day AU. Éponine/Enjolras, Éponine/Montparnasse, Marius/Cosette.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: _A Thoughtful and Gentle Farewell to an Unhappy Soul_

**Author**: Camberleigh Fauconbridge

**Rating**: PG-13 / T

**Pairings**: Enjonine [Éponine/Enjolras], established Montponine [Éponine/Montparnasse], Mosette [Marius/Cosette], established Jolichetta [Musichetta/Joly]

**Summary**: We all know the June Rebellion of 1832 against the July Monarchy did not end well, by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps, if a revolution occurred in a twenty-first century Paris, things might turn out the same way— or perhaps very differently. Modern day AU. Éponine/Enjolras, Éponine/Montparnasse, Marius/Cosette.

**Disclaimer**: _Les Misérables_ and its musical counterpart are the property of Victor Hugo, Cameron Mackintosh, Claude-Michel Schönberg, Alain Boublil, Herbert Kretzmer, Trevor Nunn, John Caird, all of the casts and all of the creative teams that have produced any production of _Les Misérables_.

**Author's Note**: I was listening to _Les Misérables_ and reading "The High School of Notre Dame" by dochar ar bith ann (which you should read, by the way, it's absolutely fantastic), and this happened.

I think _Les Misérables _in a modern setting might actually work. For this, I will be focusing on the "younger generation": Marius, Éponine, Cosette, the Friends of the ABC, et cetera. I'm considering doing a "prequel" of sorts that focuses on Jean Valjean, Javert, Fantine, the Thénardiers, et cetera, but this will come first.

Three important notes that must be addressed before continuing:

1) if you has read any of my other _Les Misérables_ fanfics, you know that I usually base my image of the characters off the 25th anniversary concert. For this piece, **this is not the case, at all**. This is not based off any cast of any production of Les Misérables, stage or film, because it would be taken that I am writing this as if the actors would really act this way. _**This is not the case**_. Good? Good.

2) as this is set in a modern Paris, I won't be mentioning any current leaders in the French government. This might upset some, but it will also anger others, so in the interest of confidentiality, there will be no real French governmental officials named in this piece.

3) no Marius/Éponine. I want to get that out there.

With that out of the way:

This won't be following the canon storyline, although there will be elements of it. There will also be an OOC character that will have a prominent part, as I realized as I was writing this that there was no antagonist. If you don't like OOCs, then please do not leave a harsh review.

I realize Montfermeil is, by now, a commune in Paris. For the sake of this piece, imagine it's a village just outside Paris like it was in the 1800s. I've been to Paris once, I've never been to the University of Paris, and have never been to the commune where Montfermeil is, so I'm not going to be quite accurate in that degree. Sorry.

Without further ado, here is _A Thoughtful and Gentle Farewell to an Unhappy Soul_.

* * *

_Eponine lay motionless but just when Marius supposed her for ever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes and said to him with an accent the sweetness of which already seemed to come from another world: "And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you." She essayed to smile again and expired. Marius kept his promise. He kissed that forehead from which oozed an icy sweat. This was not infidelity to Cosette; it was a thoughtful and gentle farewell to an unhappy soul._

-Victor Hugo, _Les Misérables_

* * *

_Chapter One_

* * *

In the village of Montfermeil, _The Sergeant at Waterloo _was one of those dingy, off-the-wayside restaurant-hotels that tourists and passersby generally avoided. You know the sort: dark, grimy, filled with cigarette smoke, covered in old neon signs advertising a lottery machine, and you can always expect the service to be lower than what you had originally thought.

This particular establishment was run by a married couple and their three children, along with minimum-wage staff. Times were tough; but even if they were not, you could guarantee M. and Mme. Thénardier (for that is the name of the devious and swindling couple) would extort you just the same.

Éponine was well aware of this, of course. It was hard to live in the same village for eighteen years and not know of her parents' not-quite-stellar reputation. She just tried to ignore it, and attempted to give the customers who came in for a sandwich or a drink or a room the best service she could.

She looked up from clearing off a dirty table, preparing to call out that she'd be there in a minute, monsieur (or madame) and would he (or she) wait a moment. But it wasn't a guest. It was her boyfriend of three years, Montparnasse.

_Montparnasse _wasn't his real name. He always maintained that Yves Laurent was stupid and girlish, and once he had visited the Montparnasse district in Paris... the rest was history, as they say. Although why he would like an artistic, bohemian-esque area of the capitol when he was only interested in cars, she didn't know.

Éponine abandoned her task and kissed Montparnasse, ignoring her mother's sharp reprimands to get back to work. When they broke apart, she thought to add a sheepish "hello".

"When will you be off work?" said Montparnasse.

"In an hour. Does the arboretum sound like a good place to meet up?" At the mention of a park devoted to flowers and trees, Montparnasse looked faintly disgusted but nodded anyway. Éponine smiled. "I know, I know. Thanks, 'Parnasse. I've got to get back to work. See you in an hour."

* * *

True to her word, an hour later the two were walking through a park filled with exotic and/or endangered trees and plants. When they reached the lake filled with swans (which did _not _make the lake romantic, only disgusting), Montparnasse asked, "Have you told your father yet?"

"No. I'm... waiting for the right time." But it was a feeble excuse, and they both knew it.

"'Ponine, you have to tell him sometime. Going off to Paris for university is not something to take lightly, you know."

"I know that, but— I'm the first one in my family to actually continue studying after secondary school, 'Parnasse. University isn't something they understand."

"Isn't that a really old-fashioned view?"

"You didn't go to university either, 'Parnasse."

"That's because I screwed around in _lycée _and blew off the entrance exams. I knew that I probably should have tried harder to get in, but there's not a degree in mechanics, is there? Seriously, 'Ponine, you need to tell them. You already applied, for God's sake. What if the acceptance packet comes in the mail and your father sees it before you've had a chance to explain?"

"Wish me luck, then," said Éponine.

* * *

"University?"

She had expected this reaction from her father, but it still hurt. "Yes, papa. University."

"But in _Paris_?"

"Well— yes."

"Why not one of the universities here in Montfermeil?"

"They— they don't offer what I want to study."

"And that is?"

Éponine flinched slightly at his tone. "French literature and Creative Writing. And maybe journalism."

"You want to study _writing_? My God, 'Ponine! Writers don't make any money!" Éponine could have named several— J.K. Rowling, Stephanie Meyer, Suzanne Collins (none of them French, but all of them women)— but her father wouldn't care.

"Papa, please. This is important to me. I've... already applied. To the University of Paris."

"Have you gone mad? The cost is enormous!"

"I've raised almost enough money for four years, papa."

"_That's _why you've been working so much," her father muttered. "'Ponine— no. You're not going. You're going to stay here and work in the restaurant. Your mother and I have done perfectly fine in life without going to university, and so will you."

"Papa, _please_—"

"I said no, 'Ponine!"

Before she could think about it, she threw out to her father, as he was leaving the room: "So you're just content to live some squalid little life here in the backwaters? There's nothing wrong with wanting to better myself and get out of this stupid village while I can! There's nothing wrong with a little ambition!"

"Enough, 'Ponine! You are not going to that university! Now shut up and get back to work!" Her father slammed the door behind him, forcefully, making it clear the discussion was over.

* * *

Éponine knew she making her case worse by not going back to work, by leaving the restaurant and sitting on a bench outside the building and trying very hard not to scream in frustration, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Her mother found her a little while later.

"'Ponine? What are you doing? You can't just leave in the middle of a job!"

"I just did, so there's no use discussing it, is there?"

"'Ponine—" Mme. Thénardier sighed and sat on the bench next to Éponine. "All right, what happened?"

"Papa is refusing to let me go to university. I have almost all the money and everything."

"Where is this university?"

"In Paris."

"Ah."

"Just—" Éponine didn't know how to say it. "Papa— you all, really— you're just... _content_ to stay here and not do anything with your life. I can't do that. Going to the university in Paris means everything to me, maman. Please tell me _you_understand."

Her mother sighed again. "I don't, 'Ponine, because I've never had that drive that you have. And even if I had wanted to go to a university... you were born when I was very young, scarcely a year after your father and I married. I couldn't have gotten a degree with you to look after."

"But surely you don't want to see me to do nothing with my life."

"I'll talk to your father tonight and see what I can do," said her mother.

"Thank you, maman!" Éponine threw her arms around her mother and hugged her, grateful that at least _some_people understood.

"All right, all right. Get back to work, 'Ponine."

This time Éponine did not protest.

* * *

The words were muffled, but she could hear sentences here and there: "—should think about letting Éponine go to that university in Paris."

"And why should I do that?" —that was her father— "If she goes, it'll be one less pair of hands to help around here. And she wants _the University of Paris_. Don't you know how expensive that is?"

"She told me she has almost all the money raised."

"Still, I don't think she should go."

"Why?"

"She isn't exactly going to be sending money from Paris, is she?"

"Your only concern is the _money_? Not even that she shouldn't be moving to Paris where all manner of terrible things could happen to her? Just the _money?_"

There was no response from her father.

Her mother continued. "I really think she should go. Montparnasse lives there, he'll be leaving Montfermeil just when Éponine would start classes. He'll take care of her."

"I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't, but he's better than nothing."

Another pause from her father. Then:

"Whatever. If she wants to go, fine. I'm not paying for anything, though."

Éponine smiled, getting up from her place by her parents' door, and went to her room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: _A Thoughtful and Gentle Farewell to an Unhappy Soul_

**Author**: Camberleigh Fauconbridge

**Rating**: PG - 13 / T

**Pairings**: Enjonine [Éponine/Enjolras], established Montponine [Éponine/Montparnasse], Mosette [Marius/Cosette], established Jolichetta [Musichetta/Joly]

**Summary**: We all know the June Rebellion of 1832 against the July Monarchy did not end well, by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps, if a revolution occurred in a twenty-first century Paris, things might turn out the same way— or perhaps very differently. Modern day AU. Éponine/Enjolras, Éponine/Montparnasse, Marius/Cosette.

**Disclaimer**: _Les Misérables_ and its musical counterpart are the property of Victor Hugo, Cameron Mackintosh, Claude-Michel Schönberg, Alain Boublil, Herbert Kretzmer, Trevor Nunn, John Caird, all of the casts and all of the creative teams that have produced any production of _Les Misérables_.

**Author's Note**: Okay, if you really want to go into details, the "University of Paris" does not exist anymore. The main characters in this technically attend the Pantheon-Sorbonne University.

* * *

_Chapter Two_

* * *

Éponine sat in her darkened room, reading the email on the computer screen. She was exhausted from finishing another shift in the restaurant, but she couldn't ignore the email from the University of Paris.

_Dear Éponine Thénardier,_

_We are excited to announce you have been accepted into the University of Paris! Your acceptance packet will be in the mail soon..._

Éponine sighed and closed the email. She clicked on another email sent from the university about dorm rooms. Her roommates were listed:

_Euphrasie Fauchelevant, born in Paris, raised in Montreuil-sur-Mer, currently lives in Paris. Freshman, majoring in Vocal Performance._

_Musichetta Isabeau, born and raised in Paris. Junior, majoring in Fashion Merchandizing._

_Adèlaïde Desnoyers, born and raised in Marseille. Junior, majoring in Political Science and Law._

Euphrasie, Musichetta, and Adèlaïde. They sounded vain and self-centered. But she chastened herself; she couldn't form an opinion based on names.

The door opened quietly, and Éponine turned to see Azelma in the doorway. Éponine sometimes called her sixteen-year-old sister _little sparrow_, because of Azelma's small frame, quiet nature, and her ability to flit from one place to the next without being seen. The sisters had used that ability to their advantage more than once over the years.

"Azelma, it's eleven thirty. I thought you were in bed."

"I couldn't sleep..."

Éponine sighed and got up, leading Azelma to her bed. Even though they were only two years apart, sometimes it felt as though it was ten. "Was it a nightmare again?" she asked gently.

"No, I was just thinking about... how you're leaving tomorrow. And the next time we'll see you is at Christmas."

"Azelma, I'll come home for..." Armistice Day was the only holiday she could think of, but she wouldn't be home for that.

"There aren't any other holidays, I checked on maman's calendar. That's five months before you come home."

"Thorough, are we? I'll come home, 'Zelma, I promise. I'll beat off all the boys from school and tell Papa to clean his gun when any of them come over." They both knew that realistically their father wouldn't care if Azelma had a boyfriend, but it was the thought that counted.

Azelma giggled, but grew sober. "You know there aren't any boys from school who would do that, 'Ponine."

Here were Azelma's insecurities surfacing again. Éponine only hoped it came from being a teenager full of hormones, and nothing more sinister. She brushed a strand of blonde hair from Azelma's forehead. "Of course there are. You'll meet a boy at a dance and he'll sweep you off your feet, and you'll look back on this conversation and say, 'you were right, 'Ponine." Éponine kissed the top of Azelma's head. "All right, it's almost midnight, little sparrow. Go back to bed."

Azelma sighed, disappointed, but obediently went to the door. "'Night, 'Ponine."

"'Night, 'Zelma."

Why was that Éponine felt she was more of a mother to Azelma that their own flesh-and-blood mother?

* * *

Éponine helped her father load the last of her suitcases into the waiting taxi. The rest of her family— her mother, Azelma, and her little brother Gavroche (though he would most likely object if called _little_)— stood on the sidewalk.

"You'll call every so often to tell us how you're doing, right, Éponine?" Mme. Thénardier asked.

"Yes, maman. I'll call and email and I won't talk to strangers and I'll look before crossing the street..."

"Oh, now you're just being sarcastic." Still, her mother managed to say without being gruff: "Be safe, 'Ponine."

"I will, maman."

Gavroche, instead of tackling her with a hug like he used to, only went over to her and said, "Have fun, 'Ponine." He was at the stage where he was embarrassed by any show of affection, like most boys his age.

"Surely you won't die of humiliation if we hug, 'Vroche."

"Don't call me _'Vroche_, 'Ponine! That was when—"

"When you were young, right. You're still young, Gavroche."

"No, I'm not—"

"I love you, too, _'Vroche_," she said, deliberately teasing him. Gavroche scowled but hugged her quickly, all the same, before backing away so no one saw him hug his sister.

Azelma started crying when she hugged Éponine.

"Azelma, please don't cry, it won't help anything..."

"But you're _leaving!_ For five months!"

"Azelma, it's all right. You won't even notice I'm gone."

"'_Ponine!_"

Clearly, Éponine's efforts hadn't helped."Just remember what I told you last night, little sparrow," she added. Azelma wiped at her eyes and nodded as Éponine turned to face her father.

"Don't spend all your money in the first month, Éponine."

"I won't, papa."

"Keep up with your studies. It'd be nice to have an extra pair of hands in the restaurant even if you did flunk, but we'd still have to keep your room instead of renting it out."

"I won't flunk, I promise."

"Good."

Then her father looked over at his wife and his other children, and drew Éponine slightly aside. He spoke quietly. "And I don't want to hear about any _funny_ business while you're off, Éponine. No getting knocked up, no failing an exam because of a hangover."

Éponine jerked her arm out of her father's hold. "Do you really think I would _do_ any of those things?"

"I never know with you, girl. Your boyfriend's living in Paris, so I can't know for certain if you'll come back pregnant or not."

"Montparnasse would never— do you honestly think I'm not—"

Her father's expression was unreadable. "Just use your head, girl."

"I _will_, papa."

Before she could get truly angry, her father stepped away and shut the trunk of the taxi. "You're all set, 'Ponine." Éponine got into the backseat amidst farewells and promises to call and email, and the taxi drove away.


End file.
